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THE 

GARDEN OF PLEASURE 

BY 

J, H. BUFFUM 



COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY J. H. BUFFUM 
COPYRIGHTED IN GREAT BRITAIN, 1922 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


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AUTHORS’ PRESS 
SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 




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©C1A675122 


MAY 11 *22 


THE GARDEN OF PLEASURE 

The modest Allen home on Lake street was 
small enough, goodness knows, and counting 
its five tiny rooms, would just about shelter 
a family of three in decent comfort. The 
five included, of course, the bathroom and the 
kitchen. But just now the empty house seemed 
to the lonely Edgar Allen incredibly large and 
vacant. The rooms echoed when he absent- 
mindedly called aloud to Jennie, forgetful for 
the moment that she wasn’t there. How barren 
and empty the whole place seemed! And he 
wandered about rather aimlessly, before he 
began getting his supper. 

His thoughts drifted to Danbury as he pried 
open the can of soup that was to be the princi- 
pal article in his lonely meal, and he pictured 
the comfortable home where his wife and his 
little one were visiting for a few days while 
he batched it alone in their absence. He envied 
Cousin Alice the privilege of being with Jennie 
and Baby Mary even for a day or two. 

He got out some crackers, a bit of left-over 
cottage cheese, part of an apple pie; and he 
warmed up the tea. He ate in the kitchen 
because it made less work; besides, the dining 
room, ordinarily cozy to the point of embar- 
rassment, seemed so barren now. He avoided 
passing through it, when he could. 

Supper over, he swept the dishes into a pile, 

3 


4 


THE GARDEN 


placed them in the dishpan and flooded them 
with water, intending to do them up later. 

Edgar had intended going for a brisk walk 
this delicious Spring morning, to brace himself 
up after the depression of the past few days. 
His latest encounter with the whisky bottle had - 
left him somewhat unstrung. And he knew 
perfectly w^ell that that was why his wife 
had gone av/ay for a visit — to seek a little 
heartease among intimate friends in the 
nearby town. 

The distance between home and the down- 
town office building where he had employment 
as night janitor was not sufficient to give him 
the exercise he needed, so this morning he 
would seek the fresh air and variety of sur- 
roundings by taking a short hike out into the 
open country. His work commenced at night at 
seven o’clock, and ended in the morning at six. 

But at the last minute before starting out, 
his sense of loneliness got the better of him, 
and he went straight to bed, after gulping his 
scant breakfast, which he had gotten into the 
habit of calling his “ supper,” coming as it 
did at the end of his day. Jennie called it 
that, too — she had come to so completely sub- 
merge her life in his. 

He got into bed without remaking it. The 
bedclothes were in a muss, but man-like he 


OF PLEASURE 


5 


crawled in, not caring. The drawn shades were 
a failure in keeping out the bewildering sun- 
light that somehow managed to bulge in 
everywhere. Finally he got up and stuck pins 
in around the edges, nailing down the shades 
to the casings. How he did miss Jennie! 
He listened for her movement out in the 
kitchen. And only now did he realize that it 
w^as the lullaby of little Mary's baby prattle 
that had been putting him to sleep each morning 
in the past. 

All within half an hour two canvassers called 
at the side door, and the man came to read 
the gas meter. These visitors Edgar received 
in his pajamas. If Jennie had been there these 
intrusions would have been disposed of noise- 
lessly. And sleep lingered while the remorse- 
ful husband thought of the worth of his absent 
wife in terms of unusual magnitude. Then he 
turned his face to the wall with a ferocious 
determination to drop quietly to sleep. 

Which instantly brought on a train of most 
irrelevant ideas. These paraded through his 
tortured brain in motley array, and ended up 
with the dancing image of a whisky bottle. 
This sprightly bottle turned a neat somersault, 
and landed complacently in Edgar's pants 
pocket in the chair near the bed, which roused 
the sleeper from his unhealthy doze, and left 


6 


THE GARDEN 


him sitting bolt upright in bed, glaring around 
the room. He looked at his trousers on the 
back of the chair — then remembered: he had 
brought home a pint bottle of the stuff from 
the offices in the Caswell building. 

It took a moment or two for his dazed mem- 
ory to recall just the circumstances of where 
he had gotten this bottle of brandy and why. 
Then he remembered : he had purloined it from 
a private locker, the key to which he had found 
and made a duplicate of. This locker was a 
wall safe in the office of one of the tenants 
of the Caswell building where Edgar worked — 
a man by name of Ordway. Edgar had made 
systematic pilgrimages to this mecca of wet 
goods, with results that were at first gratify- 
ing, but more lately astounding. 

On the last occasion of his encounter with 
one of the Ordway bottles from the private 
locker, there had appeared to the befuddled 
senses of the drinker certain grotesque forms — 
gnomes and gargoyles of hideous mein, who 
had risen from the vapors that curled about 
the neck of the bottle. One of these was a 
huge Ape, who proceeded to make a fool of 
the unwilling Edgar by compelling him to 
perform all manner of ridiculous antics, while 
the other infernal genii laughed and chortled 
in their diabolical glee. 


OF PLEASURE 


7 


That was a lesson to Edgar Allen, and he 
swore off immediately and never touched an- 
other drop thereafter — not for several days! 
Then, curiosity got the better of him, and he 
had today brought a bottle of liquor home 
with him — for purely experimental purposes. 
The fiends had appeared to him only when he 
drank in Ordway’s office. That was significant. 
Therefore, he would hereafter drink at home, 
apart from the creatures' natural habitat. 

The revulsion of shame and disgust in Edgar 
over his drunken antics at command of the 
Ape had kept him sober these several days, 
and he had remained away from Ord way's 
specimen cupboard during all that time, until 
this morning — when he had conceived the 
really clever idea of testing the phenomenon of 
the fiends in a different locale. It is not im- 
probable, either, that the knowledge of the 
intended absence of his wife and child 
influenced him. 

When one wakes up from a debauch too 
weak and sick for further pleasure, it is not 
difficult, nor indeed unnatural, for him to see, 
just then, the consequences of his folly. So 
the vow is made anew, or a new vow is made 
in the old way, never again to touch a drop ! 
But unfortunately for the victims, the drunk- 
ard's wheel is not easily stopped when once 


8 


THE GARDEN 


set in motion; and he who has been carried 
upward to a point of sobriety will, by the 
continued turn of the wheel, with its inevitable 
momentum, be dragged downward into another 
period of intoxication. For to pass from nausea 
to revived appetite is simply a matter of time. 

Edgar had gone to bed forgetful of his 
proposed experiment. But there were the 
pants, and bulging in the hip pocket the bottle 
of choice brandy that should prove or disprove 
the theory of liquor’s habitableness by gnomes, 
gargoyles and creatures whose rightful habitat 
lay in other elements and spheres. Indeed, 
now that he was in his right senses, sitting 
there in bed in broad daylight, in a somewhat 
darkened room to be sure, he was not certain 
but that those experiences just passed through 
were of the essence of dreams, fabrications of 
a distorted mind. Fine brandy like this stuff 
he had with him might produce a beneficial 
instead of a baneful effect. 

So he deliberately got up and secured the 
bottle. He took a few unusual precautions 
before getting back into bed, such as securely 
locking both bedroom doors, the one leading 
out into the kitchen and the one that connected 
with the bathroom. He even made sure that 
the windows were fastened, leaving not a breath 
of fresh air in the room — all the indications 


OF PLEASURE 


9 


of an oncoming old-time spree. But other emo- 
tions — rather, anticipations — dominated the ex- 
pectant Edgar. He had wooed sleep with 
every known artifice, sane and otherwise, and 
had failed. Get his sleep he must, else how 
could he continue to work and support Jennie 
and little Mary. This argument had pathos, 
and was clinching. 

Half a bottle of fine brandy will induce 
sleep in the worst insomniac that ever lived, and 
in a few minutes Edgar Allen was drifting 
down an enchanting river in a beautiful barge 
that rapidly approached a bewitching shore on 
which stood — ^the fairest damsel he had ever 
seen in all his life — 

At which juncture he woke up, though he 
still seemed to be in a dream, but transplanted 
to another time and another place. But when 
he checked up on his situation, there he was, 
lying on his back in bed, viewing the familiar 
ceiling. Lowering his eyes, he could see the 
tops of the two windows with the shades pulled 
down. Yes — ^he was in bed in his own home, 
yet he had the peculiar and extremely pro- 
nounced sensation of being afloat in a strange 
element, buoyant and airy. 

Now he was all at once conscious of the 
presence of someone in the room. He knew 
this — he was sure of it, but he dared not, at 


10 


THE GARDEN 


first, turn his head to see, just because of that 
very certainty of someone near. Then it drew 
nearer — as he could feel — and it gradually 
bent over him, until he was looking into the face 
of a most beautiful woman — the enchantress of 
the isle in the stream. Her face was very 
close to his now — ^too close ! He could feel her 
warm breath and sensed her quick pulse. He 
sprang to a sitting posture, and the woman 
drew back a few paces. 

“ Who in Heaven's name are you ? " the 
astonished Edgar challenged. If one could 
be alarmed and beguiled in a composite emotion, 
then that was Edgar's situation precisely. 

It seemed as if a magic hand suddenly raised 
the curtains and let all the sunshine stream in 
gloriously when the apparition made answer. 

“ Men call me Siren," she replied. “ In 
ancient times my sisters sang so sweetly on 
dangerous shores that hardy mariners were 
lured to their death upon treacherous rocks." 

But you — where do YOU come from, and 
who are YOU? " Edgar put his query eagerly, 
as if he had another ready to follow it. 

“ I ? Why, I dwell in alcohol, and am the 
strange woman seen in drunkard's wine. Many 
fall into my power when under the influence 
of drink who could not otherwise be led astray. 
That, I suppose, is why some term me danger- 


OF PLEASURE 


II 


ous, a menace to the hearthstone, to conjugal 
fidelity, and the like. But once within my 
power, all men come as my willing slaves to 
the Garden of Pleasure, whither you are going 
now — with me.^’ 

There was both meaning and command in 
the Siren’s declaration that Edgar was going 
somewhere with her, and the prospective vic- 
tim viewed his situation with alarm. He 
thought of Jennie — she might unexpectedly 
return; and he stared at his temptress help- 
lessly. For he knew well her power, though 
still possessed of some semblance of self- 
determination. He saw that his fair visitor was 
gazing intently at something on the bed beside 
him. It was the bottle, still half full. Silly! 
Why hadn’t he resorted to that before — what 
he needed exactly, to brace him up ! 

He drained the bottle. 

“ Come I ” the Siren commanded, simply. 

Somewhat dizzy from the copious potion, 
Edgar managed nevertheless to dress quickly 
and was soon ready to go. The two then went 

out, the Siren leading. 

They passed rapidly down the almost 
deserted street. A cop decorated a corner 
beneath a street lamp. It was dark, a fact 
Edgar could not understand, for he had not 
slept any, and had been in bed not more than 


12 


THE GARDEN 


an hour or so. But few persons were seen, 
and they, too, seemed bent on hurried, sus- 
picious errands. Edgar was glad that they 
m^t no one he knew, for it was akward to 
accompany a woman so scantily clad. He 
could not know, of course, that his fair guide 
was invisible to all but himself. He had not 
noticed that she passed through doors before 
he had time to open them for her. A man 
with a clear brain would have seen several 
things that the somewhat confused Edgar did 
not see. 

The town had no tenderloin, but it possessed 
some streets not often brushed by the skirts 
of the better-than-thou citizenry. The Siren 
was drifting along beside Edgar like a wraith 
or phantom, leading him by the silent compul- 
sion of her will. Indeed, he was helpless, per- 
forming entirely at the supernatural behest of 
his strange guide, who led him now straight 
to the heart of the most disreputable part of 
the city. She stopped suddenly in front of a 
typical tenement building, long and two stories 
in height. 

“ In here ! ” she directed, in a tone of 
soft command. 

Edgar approached the door and obeyed the 
Siren’s order to knock. A burly negro re- 
sponded. He opened the door a scant three 


OF PLEASURE 


13 


inches and appeared to be looking the new- 
comer over. Either the Siren was invisible to 
the black, or else he did not happen to see her. 
He gave all his attention to the visitor. 
Apparently satisfied, though having asked no 
questions, he widened the doorway enough to 
admit the caller, and Edgar entered. 

The Siren and the big black led the way 
down the narrow corridor, Edgar submissively 
following. At just what point, Edgar did not 
notice, but the oppressive little hallway, very 
long and narrow, had suddenly widened, and 
the atmosphere smelled like out doors. And 
all at once the striking leafy designs on the 
realistic wall paper were shimmering in a deli- 
cious breeze, and the bewildered newcomer real- 
ized that he could peer through the foliage and 
catch suggestive vistas of greensward and 
distance. Not only was this enchanting, but 
the transformation was positively magical. 

The strip of commonplace carpet under 
Edgar's feet had gradually roughened, and his 
grateful feet had sunk deeper and deeper as 
into some rich axminster or velours, until now 
he found he was treading the softest green- 
sward imaginable. It was refreshing — ^he had 
walked so far, and felt indeed tired now and 
languid. The bas relief foliage on the walls 
was fluttering aspen-like and had taken more 


14 THE GARDEN 

definite shape in the form of shrubs and trees 
of strange appearance. 

The Siren dropped back to walk by Edgar’s 
side. They passed beneath a great sign, done 
in flowers, which read : 

Garden of Pleasure, 

Under the exquisite arch Edgar’s fair guide 
stopped him for a moment to explain : 

“ This is the place where men sell their man- 
hood for a taste of forbidden fruit. Wealth, 
thrones and immortality itself have been bar- 
tered for this. But what care you for the fate 
of others: you soon shall taste for yourself. 
Come ! I bid you enter — for this is the Garden 
of Pleasure, wherein one may drown all sorrow 
— for a little moment — in the full cup 
of pleasure.” 

And she led the way, Edgar helplessly 
following. 

They approached more closely to the center 
of the garden. It was very spacious, Edgar 
could see, and had magnificent reaches and 
vistas, down which were hints of fairy-like 
meadows, placid streams and alluring wooded 
spots. Everywhere abounded exotic trees sug- 
gestive of the tropics. Fruits grew profusely, 
while nymphs in diaphanous costumes tripped 
over the soft greensward or lolled in warm 
fountains and bathed in shallow pools. 


OF PLEASURE 


IS 


Edgar’s senses were enthralled, and he suc- 
cumbed quickly to the enchantment of the spot. 
This was paradise indeed, the ultimate of all 
Heart’s Desire. 

But his guide pulled him along. They stopped 
next before a fountain the feature of which 
was the statue of a woman — the marble like- 
ness of the Siren. 

‘‘ The Goddess of Beauty,” whispered she in 
his ear. 

Edgar turned to ask a question of his guide. 
She had vanished completely, and without 
a sign. 

He returned his gaze to the figure in the 
fountain. It was smiling at him now — literally 
smiling ; and its exquisitely-chiselled arms were 
extended in an invitation which the sunlit spray 
intervened but enhanced. The allure was over- 
powering. Edgar went nearer, and the statu- 
esque beauty before him seemed to warm from 
its cold marble to living flesh. Her garments 
had seemed to somehow dissolve in the wet 
of the spray, until now she was quite nude — 
the loveliest thing mortal man had ever 
gazed upon. 

Edgar had stepped close to the fountain, so 
close that the spray was drenching him. Little 
he cared, though. It seemed as if the embrace 
of the marvelous creature before him — whether 


i6 


THE GARDEN 


of stone or of flesh — would be the consumma- 
tion of all earthly pleasures. He took yet one 
step closer. 

Edgar once more lifted his gaze to the fair 
form before him — it was cold marble again, 
and draped even as the sculptor had chiselled 
it. Bewildered, he stretched his hands forth 
like one blinded — and touched the figure that 
was again by his side. The magic of the thing 
thrilled him, in spite of his confused senses. 

“Never been here before, have you?'' 

The voice was coarse and jarring, though of 
feminine origin. It startled him, and he turned 
quickly and faced the form by his side. It was 
not, indeed, the amorous figure of the Siren 
(unless tragically, grotesquely transformed), 
but instead a hard-faced woman of the lowest 
type. In appearance she was the keeper of a 
nefarious dive, or of a house of ill repute. 

“ Never been here before, I take it," 
she repeated. 

“ No, and I wouldn't be here now if I 
wasn't drunk ! " Edgar protested. “ I wouldn't 
be here if " 

But the woman interrupted with a command : 
“ Come here, girls — here's a new one. Get 
busy and initiate him ! " 

At her summons, a half dozen girls came 
trooping boisterously up and immediately sur- 


OF PLEASURE 


17 


rounded their victim. Edgar was shocked at 
their appearance and their language, which 
would have shamed a pirate of the olden days 
into contempt for his profanity. And their 
eyes were baser than their tongues. Yet one 
among these seemed to Edgar shy and sad, 
and she held somewhat aloof from her 
companions. The matron of the garden 
noticed this. 

‘‘ Don’t stand there looking like a little 
Sunday School idiot ! Get busy and hand out 
the glasses. 

“ Never fear about the Sunday School 
stuff,” chided one of the crowd coarsely. 

Bernice likes the live ones, all right. She’s 
only afraid some one else will land this one.” 

Bernice’s unsullied beauty seemed to have 
aroused some jealousy already, mused Edgar, 
who could see at a glance that the girl was new 
to this sort of thing. He felt, in spite of his 
confusion, a little sorry for her. But his 
thoughts and considerations were needed closer 
home, due to the clamor of his bacchanalian 
tormentors who now pressed closer around him. 
Above the din sounded the lewd voice of 
the matron. 

“ Come, girls, get around me and drink to 
the health of the Goddess of Beauty and to our 
new victim.” 


i8 


THE GARDEN 


They closed in and filled their glasses from 
a bubbling red fountain at the base of the 
statue. Edgar was given a glassful and com- 
manded to drink with them. The liquid was 
warm and delicious and set his blood on fire. 

‘‘ What is it ? ’’ he ventured to ask. 

“ Wine of Desire, you innocent chump ! ’’ 
the matron answered in a hard voice. 

She refilled his glass and handed it to him. 

It was the rarest wine he had ever tasted. 
It was exquisitely intoxicating, but in a new 
and wonderful way. He wanted it, craved it. 
Yet he hesitated. 

“ Drink it ! ’’ the woman almost yelled. 

Then followed a little ceremony that the 
hapless victim of the lewd enchanters was 
unprepared for. He was made to kneel at the 
foot of the statue while the scantily-clad 
females disposed themselves about him. 

He was about to take the oath of allegiance 
to the Goddess of the Garden. The matron 
did the prompting, while the girls, kneeling, 
filled in with an obligato of sound that might 
have been called a chant for want of a better 
term. It was pleasing withal, though to Edgar 
the whole thing seemed so terribly absurd. 
The matron impatiently led on: 

‘‘ Do you promise to serve the Goddess of 
Beauty at all times ? ’’ 


OF PLEASURE 


19 

The novitiate hesitated, not knowing just 
what was expected of him. 

“ Promise ! ’’ whispered the dulcet voice of 
the invisible Siren in his ear. 

“ I promise,'' said Edgar, without enthusiasm. 

‘‘Are you willing to leave everything you 
have to obey her call ? " 

“ What must I leave ? " Edgar asked. 

“ Your home, your ambitions, your business 
if need be ; and especially your silly notions of 
morality. Promise ! " 

“ But I am a married man ! " the candidate 
protested. 

“ Married nothing ! " sneered the matron, 
who was becoming impatient. “ Why, we like 
them best, the dear old veterans! We would 
have to close the garden if it weren't for them !" 

“ What ! Be false to Jennie — break my 
marriage vows ! " he groaned. He had closed 
his eyes, as if to shut out the realities of his 
surroundings. And there sprang before him 
a vision of a solemn scene out of the sacred 
past. He and Jennie were again at the mar- 
riage altar, vowing to each other and to God 
that they would be faithful 'till death did 
them part. 

But the sweet retrospect was rudely broken 
by the flinty words of the matron. “ Yes, 


20 


THE GARDEN 


you pious mutt — break everything that ties you 
to one woman ! ’’ 

The victim groaned aloud. The unwilling 
and reluctant answer stuck in his throat; and 
even the persuasive coercion of the hovering 
Siren was all but unavailing in bringing the 
promise forth. But the unfortunate Edgar 
finally emitted a sound that the matter-of-fact 
mistress of ceremonies was willing to interpret 
as an affirmative, and she indicated that the 
affair should proceed. 

“ He’ll do,” decided the matron. “ Bring 
the bandage, Kitty, and give him blind man’s 
choice,” she ordered, in brisk, business-like 
tones. Then to Edgar : 

“ Get up from your knees and I’ll blindfold 
you. There ! Now catch your mate, and she’ll 
put you through the last degree. That will 
make you a life member here, and we can 
depend on seeing you often. There’s no profit 
in these first nights for us, you know. But we 
can always depend on the come-backs.” 

There was nothing for Edgar to do but to 
play the game as ordered. He resistlessly 
allowed himself to be blindfolded by the offi- 
cious matron with material torn uncere- 
moniously from the costume of one of the 
girls, which depredation left the damsel in 
a state bordering pretty nearly on au natureL 


OF PLEASURE 


21 


This produced a hearty and vulgar laugh from 
the assembled “ nymphs/’ who by courtesy of 
environment rather than deportment might be 
called such. 

Then there ensued what seemed to Edgar 
a most ludicrous performance, in which he 
played the leading role. The game was a most 
voluptuous form of blind man’s buff, in which 
it was up to Edgar to capture one of the flit- 
ting damsels. He certainly made a fool of 
himself. He collided with trees ; he fell 
sprawling into brooks; he wound his arms 
about statues, and on several occasions he 
made captive some innocent visitor to the 
Garden, who like himself had found entrance 
through the agency of booze. 

Had he but known it — in fact, he should 
have known it — there was another section of 
the Garden unfamiliar to first-timers, where 
Pleasure moved in franker guise, where plain 
debauchery had supplanted fascination, and 
wanton lust ate without table cloths or napkins. 
Edgar would come to that a little later. But 
guile and seduction were necessary forerunners 
of direct bestial gratification of the grosser 
senses, and the management of the place under- 
stood the business thoroughly. Human nature 
is understood better in the tenderloin than in 
other places. 


22 


THE GARDEN 


Edgar's first concept of the Garden, as sug- 
gested by tantalizing but imperfect vistas 
through shimmering trees, had been that of 
an elysian paradise, devoid of care and worry, 
where one’s soul might find pervading peace 
forever. So the vulgarity of the ‘‘ girls ” who 
had flocked around him at the behest of a 
wanton creature bred in the “ cribs,” had been 
a distinct shock to him — because these same 
girls, seen in the distance, had presented sylph- 
like forms and graces of ethereal beauty — or 
so it had seemed to the bewildered visitant on 
first entering. The dissolution of the living 
statue’s garments — she of the central fountain 
— had not disgusted him, as such an exhibition 
would have done in everyday life, for the 
exquisite revelation of beauty was almost a 
holy thing — he had wondered at the handiwork 
of a Creator who could design it. 

The raucous voice of the insistent matron 
prodded Edgar when he lagged at the sport, 
and she waddled along at his side and egged 
him on as long as her breath lasted. Then 
the invisible but helpfully-inclined Siren took 
up the good work, and poured encouraging 
words into Edgar’s ear. He was so nearly 
worn out by now that he was ready to accept 
his next capture, whether it proved to be a tree, 
a hussy or the disgusting matron herself. 


OF PLEASURE 


23 


The overtaxed mistress of the Garden, sens- 
ing the situation as it stood with their unwilling 
victim, deliberately thrust happiness in his way 
in the person of the girl Bernice. She grabbed 
the maiden roughly and literally threw her into 
the oncoming candidate’s arms. The bandage 
was removed from Edgar’s eyes — and he saw 
who it was he held in listless grasp. 

“ There now ! What did I tell you ? She 
wanted to be caught.” The snippy one with the 
despoiled garment had spoken. Edgar looked 
at her. Her heavy lips dropped sensuously. 
She made no effort to conceal her breasts, 
which during the exertion of the gambol had 
become bared. The remainder of her costume 
did not meet the demands of ordinary decency. 
The consciousness of this she fluanted in his 
face, brazonly knowing that it offended him. 

‘‘You wanted to be caught, didn’t you!” 
the half -clad one sneered at the shrinking 
Bernice again, limp in Edgar’s arms. 

“ I didn’t 1 ” indignantly protested she. 

“ Come, don’t stand there 1 ” ordered the 
matron. “ Get busy with him.” 

The withering command of the mistress of 
ceremonies was intended as much for the indif- 
ferent Edgar as it was for the reluctant 
Bernice; and he felt the futility of resistance 
in the face of such tremendous odds as were 


24 


THE GARDEN 


arrayed against him. Besides, he was in a 
sense conscious of the moral collapse that had 
followed his initiation into the adulation of the 
Goddess. He was quite aware of the course 
he was taking, yet now without desire to desist. 

Without voicing the protest that she seemed 
to feel, Bernice led her consort down one of 
the paths that wound among shrubs and flowers. 
They met other couples, like themselves on 
pleasure bent. These sought shady retreats 
and quiet nooks, from the crowd apart. i 

‘‘ What is this ? ’’ abruptly asked Edgar. i 

The two were skirting the boundary of the [ 
Garden now, and had followed along a hedge j 
that formed a wall breast high. On the other j 
side of the hedge Edgar had beheld something 
that arrested him. 

Bernice looked in the direction indicated. 
“That?— that thing?” replied she. “Why 
that is one of the outcasts from the Garden, j 
He refused obeisance to the Goddess of Beauty, • 
and she exiled him. He is the Bilious Saint — 
hungry, but too good to eat the food set before 
him. Now he starves on the fruit of a with- 
ered tree.” 

Edgar surveyed the creature. He was lean 
and hungry looking. He poked with bony 
fingers among the dead leaves on the ground, | 
finding now and then a husk that he chewed 


OF PLEASURE 


25 


on ravenously. The withered husks were wind- 
falls from a barren tree beneath which the 
bilious one sat in a posture of such dejection 
that Edgar was heartily sorry for him. Edgar 
looked at Bernice questioningly. 

‘‘A warning against celibacy/’ murmured 
she; and they moved on. 

Cries, and the loud tones of a man in anger, 
startled the seductress and her companion, who 
halted and listened to the commotion, coming 
from another part of the Garden. 

“ Someone is in distress,” exclaimed Edgar — 
“ a girl ; and they may be hurting her. 
Come on ! ” 

Bernice was alarmed at her companion’s 
intention to interfere, knownig full well the 
wrath of the matron, and fearing it. 

‘‘ Don’t ! ” she pleaded, clutching his arm. 
“ Those things happen every night. It’s a part 
of the life here. Somebody has to pay, that’s 
all ; and probably she is paying now — God 
pity her ! ” 

The last was said under her breath and with 
a shudder. 

Edgar, however, broke away and ran toward 
the commotion. Bernice followed him, striving 
to retain her clutch on his arm. That would 
be her alibi should the matron see. 


26 


THE GARDEN 


Hurdling a low hedge, which landed him in 
a neatly-contrived retreat, Edgar found him- 
self suddenly viewing a dramatic scene. A 
man whom he recognized as one of the leading 
figures in the community was standing menac- 
ingly above a couple who cowered on the grass 
at his feet. The girl was his own daughter. 
She had come by the jazz route into the 
Garden, down the path that started in after-the- 
theatre suppers sans chaperon; in apartment 
dances so select that the doors were bolted lest 
old-fogy fathers and mothers walk in unher- 
alded. She supposed, of course, (when con- 
science hinted of danger) that there would be 
plenty of by-paths that would turn back up 
to the level of thorough respectability, should 
she care to retrace her steps. She knew of the 
Garden, of course, everyone knew. She never 
had really been there — just peeked in once or 
twice, and it didn’t look half so terrible as it had 
been pictured. 

The man in the case was her own father’s 
business associate. That was unfortunate, of 
course. Yet he was not wholly to blame. The 
girl had found it best to frequent certain places 
under a fictitious name — they all did that, be- 
cause once or twice the places had been raided. 
These were studios ” where performances 
were given in the name of art for art’s sake 


OF PLEASURE 


27 


alone. Few were admitted, and the coterie was 
very “ select.’’ There were exhibitions, daosant 
and pantomime, that only the true artist could 
appreciate. The vulgar world could not 
be admitted. 

The tired business man, infatuated with the 
girl who was seeking life’s thrills in whatever 
direction they might be found, so long as they 
bore the label of respectability, could offer but 
one thrill more, and that was the Garden 
itself, the path to which he pictured as being 
perfectly safe. He was especially convincing 
when he reminded her of something that she 
already knew — that they were about the only 
ones in their set who had never been there. 
He was solid and substantial, and absolutely 
respectable, and thoroughly versed in the ways 
of the world. He ought to know, if anybody 
should. Besides — she had heard a good deal : 
a good deal that she would like to investigate. 
The shocking things she was sure she could 
disprove, and would like the chance to do so. 
The inherent instinct that first told her of the 
existence of the Garden, wakened also the 
curiosity to visit it. 

And she and the tired business man did so. 

“ What are you doing here ! ” The thunder- 
ing tones of the irate father were terrifying 
in the wrath that they showed. The right of 


28 THE GARDEN 

a parent to demand explanation from a way- 
ward child swayed the man. 

His challenge, amounting almost to an im- 
precation, so uncompromising was his tone, 
had an unexpected effect. 

The recalcitrant girl rose dramatically to 
her feet ; then faced her father squarely. 

Edgar thought the man was about to strike 
his own daughter, for he was in an appalling 
rage, and towered above her menacingly. 

“ What are you doing here, in the Garden ? 

The father wilted, like one struck down sud- 
denly in a gas attack. 

The other man got to his feet awkwardly, 
and disappeared. 

“ Come! '' said the father, softly; and he led 
her away. 

Edgar and Bernice resumed their stroll, she 
fearful (because of the matron) that the inci- 
dent just witnessed might dampen her conquest. 
She knew what was expected of her — to make 
her victim want to come again. But she need 
not have feared. As of the ancient Grove of 
Daphne, he who once entered never wished 
to leave. 

Bernice made directly now for her private 
bower, leaf-walled and secluded. It was a most 
enchanting spot — a paradise within Paradise. 
The leafy incense of aromatic shrubs pervaded 


OF PLEASURE 


29 


the retreat and lulled the senses into a dreamy 
repose. Edgar gave himself over to the spell 
of the time and place, and sank down gratefully 
upon a grassy mound, in the center of which 
grew a tree most rare, whose fruit was tempt- 
ing beyond anything he had ever looked upon 
before. Appetite for the strange fruit filled 
him instantly. 

He called aloud to the girl, Bernice, who was 
not far off. She was shy again, and appeared 
unwilling to enact her expected part in what 
to her was to be a tragedy — to Edgar 
drama sublime. 

‘‘The fruit!’' exclaimed Edgar. “I desire 
this fruit, yet see — I cannot reach it. You 
must help me — you alone can give it to me. 
Come. I want you — you!’' 

The girl obeyed, tremblingly, for she heard 
just then a coarse female voice rasping through 
the Garden, in tones of rude command 
to someone. 

“What was that?” asked Edgar, frowning. 

“ The voice of Necessity, bidding unwilling 
ones perform the acts their hearts revolt at.” 

“Your speech perplexes me; but come! this 
is the hour of pleasure. I would eat this fruit. 
Pluck it for me, and tell me its name. What 
call they this ? ” 


30 


THE GARDEN 


‘‘ Passion Fruit, to those who eat under- 
standingly. But to most, these become the 
Apples of Sodom/' 

“ And will you spare me one ? " 

She looked in the direction whence had come 
the strident voice of the Matron of the Garden. 
“ I must ! " she answered with a shiver. 

The unhappy girl crept nearer. She had 
gotten the thing that in his own strength the 
Man was unable to procure for himself, and 
was bringing it to him, tucked away in her 
breast — a fruit fair to look upon, spotless 
and untouched. 

He had no regard for the fact that this was 
the woman's possession, entrusted to her keep- 
ing, Hers, to offer or to withhold, as she might 
choose. In any other setting, her tree would 
have been a precious, even holy possession. 
But here — the fruit was inedible and even 
loathsome in her eyes, the more because those 
who came partook unworthily. Hunger in her 
had turned to repugnance. 

Edgar ruthlessly tore the fruit from her 
breast, before even she could pretend to offer 
it to him. Once he had the tantalizing fruit 
in his grasp, he forgot everything in the world 
beside — ^home, wife, child and marriage vows. 
He ate deeply and to his fill. The instincts of 


OF PLEASURE 31 

the brute in man ran true to form; his one 
idea was satiety. 

Some time later Edgar roused to his senses. 
The girl, Bernice, had gone. Through the 
Elysian shade filtered the harsh voice of the 
Matron of the Garden, goading the “ girls 
on to their duty. Another victim was being 
“ taken down the line,’’ and Edgar, shivering 
a little with the cool of approaching evening, 
wondered if the latest novitiate had a wife and 
wee child — a girl child — at home, waiting for 
his returning. 

He got to his feet, and staggered out of the 
chilly bower, whose fragrant incense seemed 
to have given way to dank odors of decaying 
mold. He glanced up at the heavily laden tree. 
Its malodorous fruit, over-ripe and bloated, 
appeared more like putrid windfalls, rotting in 
the grass, than anything tempting to the appe- 
tite. Appetite indeed ! He was now nauseated 
— anything but hungry. 

With a complete revulsion of feeling as com- 
pared with his entrance into this spot an hour 
ago, he hurried away from it now with all the 
energy prompted by returning soberness of 
thought. He w^as actuated by the one desire 
to get away, to be gone from the scene of his 
debauch. Had this lapse of rigid principle been 
disassociated from the ensnarement of booze. 


32 


THE GARDEN OF PLEASURE 


he would not have reproached himself so much ; 
but the thought rankled that it was a plain 
case of whisky getting him into trouble again. 
And this time, trouble of a deeper sort than 
ever before. For tonight he had broken his 
marriage vows. Jennie had always trusted him 
in that, he knew. There had been one thing he 
had held inviolate. But now ! 

He rushed toward what he thought must be 
the limits of the Garden, for he had perceived 
a very high hedge. Gaining it, he found an 
opening. This was plainly marked with the 
laconic letters, EXIT. 

The exit proved to have the dignity of a 
portal ; yes, and a guard stood by, watching all 
who passed out. This was a female figure, 
fair of form and very beautiful, but arrayed 
in the unmistakable garb of Death. 

“ Very singular,’’ Edgar mused. “ What 
place has Death in the Garden of Pleasure ? ” 
Then an unusual thought struck him, and he 
turned very pale. 

He quickened his pace, and rapidly passed 
through the exit, giving the Guardian of the 
Portal an apprehensive glance as he almost 
touched her robes in going out. 

She smiled at him, her beautiful face sar- 
donic in its mockery. 

It was the Siren, in the Reaper’s attire ! 























LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






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